


Remnant

by Arkanna



Category: Legacy of Kain
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 19:37:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11904783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkanna/pseuds/Arkanna
Summary: An odd piece of a future past.





	Remnant

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Legacy of Kain or any of its characters.

“IT IS MINE!! It is clearly marked . . .”

“You will stop this incessant fighting at once!” Kain roared bringing his fist down angrily. It struck the table with a resounding crack. The wooden table, to its credit, struggled for a moment before giving up and collapsing in a pile of kindling.

The two fledglings broke their angry glares to stare at their sire. Turel actually dared open his mouth.

“Do not speak,” Kain growled dangerously his eyes narrowed to slits. Even sitting, he was a terrifying force when enraged. “I do not know nor do I care what you are fighting over. This is the fourth time in as many days you have brought your petty squabbles to my attention,” his voice was low and echoed oddly in the small room.

“But . . .” Dumah began, quickly snapping his mouth shut at the glare from his sire.

Kain snarled, his fangs glinting wickedly in the dull lamplight. “Take your argument and yourselves from my sight and do not return unless it is an issue of dire importance. Do I make myself clear?”

“But Sire, Dumah will not . . .”

“BE GONE!!” Kain roared rising from his seat.

Turel and Dumah, who had only a moment before been standing nose to nose in fury, spitting vitriol and curses at one another, on the verge of an all out brawl, balked. Their ire nothing in the face of their sire's rage. If Kain was not aware of their abilities, he could have sworn both had teleported from the room in their haste.

After a few moments, he sat with an exasperated sigh and glared at the remains of his table—the third piece of furniture destroyed in less than a week. Rahab and Melchiah, surprisingly, had come to blows over some bit of silliness and had reduced a divan to nothing more than a pile of shredded cloth and sticks. Zephon had overturned an entire cabinet filled with books and china, completely crushing the chair he had been sitting in, when Turel had lunged at him. Why, Kain had no idea. The resulting mess had given him a hellacious headache.

It was for this very reason Kain had _acquired_ the large stone mansion. The small shacks his fledglings had been content with in the beginning could no longer contain them and it would seem even a large sturdy structure was not immune to their stupidity either. Perhaps he should also _acquire_ some servants, though he doubted they would last an hour much less an entire day.

There was a rather tentative knock at his door. Kain pinched the bridge of his nose and seriously considered leaving them to themselves and returning for the survivors later.

“Enter,” he finally growled.

The door slowly creaked open and Raziel peeked cautiously around its edge. “Sire?” he asked quietly, “I heard . . .”

“I'm sure you did,” Kain interrupted, “what do you want?”

“I . . .” he noticed the destroyed table in the middle of Kain's private rooms, “I will clean this up,” deciding that what he had initially wanted was probably best left for another time. Keeping his sire in a relatively _good_ mood far more important than satisfying his own curiosity.

Kain narrowed his eyes at his eldest. _Unneeded help . . ._ “This is not your mess to clean nor your concern. What do you want?”

No chance of a good mood then either, Raziel thought. “I . . . it is nothing. I will come back another time,” he tried to close the door but Kain's glare froze him to the spot.

“What. Do. You. Want?” each word enunciated clearly and precisely leaving no doubt that Kain was at the very end of whatever patience he might have had.

Raziel stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. “There is an ancient ruin to the north, not too far, perhaps an hour's ride on a fast horse . . .” he began only to stop at the dark glare from Kain.

“And how would you know this?”

“I was exploring and . . .” he stopped abruptly, realizing he had just admitted to Kain that he had blatantly ignored his command NOT to leave the walls of the estate.

“Continue,” he growled, eyes narrowed. There would be consequences, but what was done was done. He might as well see where this was leading.

If it was possible, Raziel might have paled at the promise in that glare. “It was empty but I found a trapdoor beneath some rubble and a stairway descending into the cellars. I found nothing, but then part of a wall gave way revealing a hidden chamber. There were a few rusty weapons and part of a suit of armor and in a corner a table and chair. The scrolls disintegrated at my touch but this,” he presented a small folio to Kain, “did not. I have tried to read it but it is in a style that I am unfamiliar with. I thought it might be of interest.”

Without even touching it, Kain knew it was of great age and still somewhat protected by binding spells. The small journal, as it turned out, was bound in leather and the vellum sheets mostly legible though pages were lost to age and ink faded with time. The writing was small and cramped in a shaky script that was difficult to decipher. As he skimmed through the pages, the writing became more even as if the author had become more comfortable with putting pen to paper. A word on a severely damaged page caught his eye and he nearly shivered at the implications of what Raziel had found.

 

_. . . the Grand Inquisitor has ordered us this day to make all prep . . .ions with due haste. He and the rest of the inquisitors have come upon a pla . . . it is surely meant to eliminate the vampire scourge at las . . ._ Several pages were missing and an entire section left unreadable by water stains and mold, discoloration and the brittleness of age despite the magics that were meant to preserve the journal, yet Kain was able to skim through much til the final page. _I fear a great error was made in attacking the most ancient vampire for it hath brought the wrath of hell upon my brethre . . . ost to us are six of the greatest Sarafa . . . most of the Circle . . . inclu . . . though Mort . . . I cared not to remain and so have fled many leagues hence from . . . is a settlement here, I know not its name, but as I am capable with sword and spear, have been offered a position as watc . . . I only pray that I never lay eyes upon . . . demon again._

 

Yes, Kain sighed, glancing back at the page even as angry shouts rose through the floor, there would be consequences. Raziel's curiosity and thirst for knowledge far more destructive than anything his brothers were capable of inflicting.

 


End file.
